Three Eco-Poems by

Barry Wallenstein

Poems: Water Rising, Necessary Dacticism, Solarize Sullivan County

Barry Wallenstein is the author of eight collections of poetry, the most recent being At the Surprise Hotel and other Poems [Ridgeway Press, 2016] and Drastic Dislocations: New and Selected Poems [New York Quarterly Books 2012]. He has made eight recordings of his poetry with jazz, the most recent being What Was, Was [Audioscope. 2015] and Lucky These Days, [Cadence Jazz Records, 2013]. For many years, he has performed his poetry with jazz musicians all around the Metropolitan Area and often at The Cornelia Street Cafe in Greenwich Village. He is an Emeritus Professor of literature and creative writing at the City University of New York and an editor at American Book Review. More information can be found at www.BarryWallenstein.com/

Waters Rising

1.The Rain

The rain was general all over the North Eastand heavy all through the first week of broadcasts.At first we welcomed the cleansing,all that dirt rushing down the drains,and a fine excuse for remaining indoors --playing Civilization and making small boats.

During the second week, perhaps caught in a wind trap,the rain held up and seemed about to stopbut then revved up its engine, came on strong.By the end of that week,the damp had found its way into our pockets,our folded money stuck and worthless.

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At the end of a solid month,the rain drops, caught in an endless spell,became larger and larger withflecks inside huge enough to study– actual sunsets over cities andcombinations drying on suburban lines.

Here's a raindrop large as a globe;inside are three giant glaciers floating south--cities being rubbed and jostled by the flow,and the smaller islands have gone underto sand bars. Only the old mapsshow the earlier story: picturesque.

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The raindrop on its right reveals the mountains;

Tarzan is seen smiling--swinging from a tree.The others have stripped to their shortsand are waving their fisted hands heavenwardas the waters rise relentlessly.

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The raindrop to the left is even largerand the performances within are wild:a fevered auto race with Silver Streak in the lead,and above that, as the hill rises and crests,a fair with a Ferris Wheel is in progressand the children shriek high above everything.

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They are dry. The hero in the tree is dry.Only those in cities -- always built on waterways,

always in need of channels --are scurrying about.The automobiles and trains are under water,and the boat builders rush to their craft.

When the raindrops pop and dry,as they will in the returning sunlight,all that was seen inside themwill be gone with the drops.________________________________________________________